


Brewing Love

by BulletStrong



Series: Brewing Love [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, coffee shop AU, swanqueen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-09-19 10:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20329972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletStrong/pseuds/BulletStrong
Summary: When Regina Mills, the mayor of Boston, walks into Storybook Brews and meets Emma Swan, the klutzy barista and co-owner, sparks fly. Will their love brew or bust?Coffee Shop AU. Swan Queen.





	1. Took a Spill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Swen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swen/gifts).

Emma Swan hates coffee in a deep-seated way. It’s much too bitter at its core, then becomes too saccharine if sugar cubes are added, and too bland if milk is added. It’s an opinion most people scoff at every time she turns down the beverage and ends up having to explain why.

_ “You just haven’t found your flavor yet _,” is what most respond with, and she usually laughs it off even though her dislike for coffee should never be minimized in such a way. 

So, it’s an ironic plot twist when her parole officer slips her a pamphlet for a trauma and grief support group and she meets a young Asian woman with a lot of sadness in her heart and the bright idea to open a coffee shop. 

_ “People love coffee and I love money,” _is what Fa Mulan said to Emma as they leaned against the brick wall of the community center and watched other members of the group trot toward their cars with their Starbucks cups in their hands. The meaningful look sent her way told Emma she was about to be roped into something that could be great or a total disaster. 

And that’s how she ended up as the co-owner of Storybook Brews—a cozy coffee shop right across from the Boston city hall. 

It took her entire life savings, which was mostly apology money from her ex-boyfriend Neal. He hid it under the passenger seat of the yellow Bug they stole together months before her imprisonment. Truthfully, she should’ve given more thought about funneling that money to a woman she barely knew for a business that could have easily failed, but Emma was already screwed. She was a parolee with no high school degree or job prospects. 

Gambles usually didn’t work out well for her, but this gamble? Well, it somehow paid off. That’s a fact Mulan loves to throw back in her face whenever Emma doubts a decision. 

_ “Coffee-infused bagels? Really?” _

_ “Hey, Emma, who came up with this whole successful business plan again?” _

They’ve been up and running for about six months now and it’s a hit, especially with the politicians and their aids that work right across the street. They get a lot of foot traffic because of their prime location too. There are town hall meetings with citizens, guests that make the trek over to propose legislature, the press that film for C-SPAN and other networks, and the men and women that live in the neighborhood. Mulan wasn’t kidding when she said this location would be worth the hefty rent.

She still hates coffee, but she’s damn glad others are obsessed with it. 

“Marian, hey! You’re—You look awesome! Or beautiful, not awesome. Not that you don’t look—“

_ Speaking of obsessed... _

“Hey, Fa,” Marian blushes as she reaches the cash register, smiling at Mulan shyly and chuckling through their awkwardness. Emma watches them from the small table near the bathrooms as she munches on her breakfast sandwich. Marian is the chief of staff to the Mayor of Boston. She’s beautiful and awesome, and Mulan has the biggest crush on her. Thankfully for her, it’s seemingly mutual. “The boss wants—“

“Coffee, black, no sugar and no milk. I know. She’s kind of a creature of habit, that one.” Mulan smiles and fiddles with the name tag pinned to her black apron before grabbing her order pad and a black gel pen, “But you like to experiment—“ Mulan squeaks and freezes after the words tumble from her mouth and Emma has to bite her lip to keep from laughing at their stupidly stunned expressions. 

It’s nice to see her so thrown off considering how much of a smug asshole she is with Emma. Lucky for Mulan, the shop is empty at this time of the morning since the breakfast rush is over and everyone is headed to work, so no one but Emma is watching her stumble through flirting. 

Marian tips her chin down and hides another blush behind a curtain of dark brown hair, but a puff of laughter fills up the room. Mulan softens at the sound. _ Idiots _. Love and romance? It’s just an avenue where all exits lead to pain. She thinks of Neal and her hearts hardens even more. 

“You’re adorable, Fa. Lucky for you, I love to experiment,” Marian grins and shoots the Asian woman a meaningful look. Okay, Emma can admit she hopes they never require an exit, even if she stopped believing in happy endings a long time ago. “I’ll have the same as my boss, but I want to try one of those infused bagels.”

Mulan perks up, “You’re going to love them! Most people doubt the idea, but it adds a nice deep richness to the dough.”

Marian watches as the store owner starts putting her order together and Emma can tell she’s weighing a decision. Her back is ramrod straight, shoulders tense, and her lips are pursed, like she’s gearing up to talk. When Mulan turns back toward the register with a small brown bag and cup holder housing the two black coffees, Marian finally speaks up. 

“So, there’s this new bakery a few blocks down and I’ve been wanting to try it out for weeks. I was wondering if you’d like to, I don’t know, join me for some lunch? No pressure or anything, I just—“

“Hey, breathe,” Mulan soothes the other woman and stops her from rambling. “I’d love to, but I can’t. I pretty much work all day, every day, but maybe this weekend?”

“Oh, I have... I have Roland this weekend.”

“Your son?” Mulan asks. Marian nods. “Well, what about next weekend?”

When Marian’s shoulders droop in disappointment, Emma sighs. She shoves the rest of the bacon and egg sandwich into her mouth and chews methodically as she stands from her table and wipes down the top with a napkin. Her friend is stammering through a response about her availability and how Emma covers the night shift only when she slides in next to her and interrupts. “I’ll cover you for lunch.”

Mulan is clearly not expecting the offer if her wide-eyed incredulous stare is anything to go by. Emma has insomnia and usually spends mornings and most of the afternoon in the back office, working on the books and inventory in between fits of disturbed sleep on the office couch, and then takes over around four and works the counter until closing time. 

“Emma, that wouldn’t be fair. You’re exhausted.” Mulan says, but her eyes are hopeful, and Marian is watching them both eagerly. 

“You take the morning shift, I’ll take over from eleven to three, and then you take most of my night shift. I’ll still help you close and prepare for tomorrow. Fair trade off.” Emma throws the two women a smile and teases, “Besides, helping two sickeningly sweet love birds will totally score me some good karma points.” 

“We’re just—“

“We’re not—“

“Sure!” Emma puffs out a disbelieving laugh. “So, switch shifts?”

Both women stare at one another nervously for a few seconds before Mulan nods with a small, grateful smile and Emma pats her friend on the shoulder before making her way into the back of the shop. She turns on the light in the back office and lets out a weary sigh. The paperwork is waiting for her and the computer is ready to power up and pull up the excel sheet, but the worn-out blue couch off to the side is calling to her. 

Her sleep the night before was restless and she’s exhausted, and now that she’s taking Mulan’s shift, she’ll definitely need to rest. Without a second thought, she shimmies out of her jacket, plops down on the couch, and snuggles into the cushions, ready to catch up on sleep before her first ever lunch shift.

* * *

“Henry, please lower the volume on that infernal game!” 

Regina ignores the massive eye roll she gets in response, mostly because the pops of gunfire emanating from the large television in the lounge of her office drops just enough. She loves her son and she’s glad he’s able to relax and enjoy his time off from elementary school but setting up a PlayStation console in her Mayor’s office was a terrible decision. 

She’s making do, however. As a single mother with parents that have passed and a sister that decided to move to London to chase after a man named _ Chad _, for god’s sake, she had limited options for childcare. Henry refused to go to camp, didn’t have many friends to spend time with, and Regina simply couldn’t afford to hire a babysitter for nine hours a day, six days a week. Technically, she can hire that babysitter considering her massive family’s wealth, but she won’t. Her relationship with her son has been turbulent enough. She couldn’t bear him attaching to some random teenager and leaving her behind. Perhaps it was selfish to force him to come with her bright and early to the office, but it was the best option for her.

She’s just about to turn back to her massive pile of proposals when Henry sighs and drops his game controller on the couch with a thud. The television is displaying a baby blue box with bright yellow font spelling out “_ Victory Royale _” and she’s fairly sure that means he won something, so his displeasure holds her attention.

“What’s the matter, Henry?”

“Bored, that’s all,” He replies with a huff that usually would incur irritation, but she’s feeling quite guilty for sequestering him in her office during his summer break. He‘s ten, edging slowly toward those dreaded teenage years, and they both want him to have much more interaction with people his own age. He’s a lonely boy. It worries her beyond belief.

“Why don’t you reconsider going to summer camp, sweetheart? You used to enjoy it—“

“No, I told you I don’t want to!” Henry’s voice is just loud enough to make Regina nervously check her door. Her secretary, a young girl named Ashley, has loose lips and once told Sidney Glass, the local beat reporter, about her troubles with her son. Their private affairs were subject to public scrutiny, which only made the situation with Henry all the more precarious. The only reason the girl still has a job is her best friend and chief of staff, Marian, who pleaded on the girls' behalf and appealing to Regina’s mothering side. 

_ “The girl just had a baby, Regina. She’s a single mom, no high school diploma, no prospects. She didn’t know who Sidney was. Now, she does and knows better.” _She’d said in that tone that simultaneously made her soften and grow irritated. In the end, Regina’s pity kept Ashley behind the front desk. Still, it doesn’t mean she trusts her. 

She doesn’t bother acknowledging his tantrum. It’s what all of those psychology books she’s been reading tell her to do to change his behavior. Deep down, she knows he doesn’t have a behavioral problem. He’s just processing. It doesn’t make it hurt any less when he yells, or shrugs off her touches, or tells her he hates her, but it gives her hope that things will get better. 

The awkward silence between them is severed the moment her office door flings open and a blushing Marian whips toward them with a wide smile and a coffee tray balanced in her open palm and a brown take out bag scrunched between her fingers. Regina’s mouth practically salivates at the thought of breakfast. She and Henry ran out of the mansion this morning to beat the early traffic rush and missed the most important meal of the day.

“You won’t believe it!” Marian squeals loud enough for Ashley to peek around the office doorway. A scalding glare from the Mayor has the blonde secretary scrambling back to her desk. 

“Marian, would you quiet down? This is a place of—“

“I asked her out!” Marian exclaims as she places the coffee tray down on Regina’s desk and sits down on the visitor’s chair. Regina sighs. Professionalism was evicted the day she decided to hire her cheery best friend as her chief of staff. 

She reaches from the take out bag and pulls out her apple cinnamon muffin then tosses the bag to Henry, who catches it easily and digs around for his breakfast sandwich. She takes a quick bite of her food. “Who—?” 

“Fa. The coffee girl.” Marian gives her a knowing glance when Regina simply looks confused. “I’ve been talking about her for months, Regina.” 

Guilt floods the mayor, but she simply sighs heavily and puts down her muffin. The least she could do is give Marian some of her attention after ignoring her school girl crush for months. Marian isn’t offended though, Regina knows. She knows the Mayor has had too much on her plate recently. Besides, she’s fully aware that her best friend has seen love as a weakness since they met. 

Regina’s tanned hands shake slightly as she thinks about their ex, Robin. 

“So, what happened, _ Tia _?” Henry’s expression is exuberant for the first time in weeks and Regina’s just so relieved to see him smile that she smothers the part of her that’s envious that Marian pulled it from him and not her. 

Marian turns to him and returns his smile enthusiastically. “Well, I managed to work up the nerve to ask her on a date and it almost didn’t happen, but Fa’s coworker is going to take over her shift—“

“When is this date?” Regina asks her, eyes narrowed and suspicious. “Tonight’s Town Hall is extremely important, especially if we want to win re-election this November.” 

“It’s _ March _, Regina, and you always poll strongly. Besides, there’ll be several more Town Halls before election night—“ 

Regina sighs, “That does not mean we can slack off, Marian. I understand that you have _ feelings _ for this _ coffee shop woman _, but—“

“Mom,” Henry’s pleading voice freezes her. He hasn’t called her that in months, not since that insipid elementary school teacher ruined everything. He doesn’t say anything more, but he doesn’t have to. She knows that he’s trying to plead on his godmother’s behalf, to tell her that not everyone is as dismissive and cynical about love as she is. 

Her eyes slip shut, tight and slightly painful, as self-loathing washes over her. She minimized her best friends’ excitement and put a damper on the joyous mood that had befallen them with Marian’s entrance. Perhaps Henry was right. Maybe she does snuff the light from everyone around her. Maybe—

“Regina,” Marian’s soft, knowing voice breaks up her thoughts and her gentle hand grabs Regina’s, entwining their fingers together and squeezing reassuringly. Because Marian _ knows _ and _ understands. _“The date is today, during lunch, so I’ll be back in time to help you prep for the Town Hall.” Marian’s kind smile turns teasing as she adds, “Think you can manage getting your own lunch?”

“I’m not a child,” Regina huffs, glaring at the other woman petulantly. Marian laughs it off. _ The nerve. _

“I never said you are, but you’re kind of a workaholic and refuse to put your work down for the ten minutes it would take you to walk to a bistro.” Marian leans back, dragging her hands away from Regina as the atmosphere loosens and placing them on her lap, smoothing out the denim of her black jeans. “It’ll take you less than ten minutes if you go to the coffee shop across the street. They make those panini’s you like.” 

“The coffee shop across the street?” Regina screws up her nose, “_ The Coffee Cavern _was shut down due to Mister Jones’ negligence.” She frowns, “And he was a connoisseur of hot garbage. I told you to never get me food or coffee from that shop.” 

Marian’s grin tightens and Henry’s watching them knowingly. “Fa bought the place and cleaned it up before opening her coffee shop there a few months back. You’ve been having their food since I first saw her through the front window because I’ve been making excuses to talk to her. Any of this ringing a bell?” 

_ Vaguely _. Regina tended to tune Marian out whenever she began gushing over the woman she was attracted to. 

“Right,” Regina mumbles before clearing her throat and avoids Marian’s slight glare by turning to her computer and clicking on a completely irrelevant file folder to look preoccupied. Dismissively, she adds, “I’ll pick up lunch so you can enjoy your date.”

“Thank you.” Marian’s glare softens into a small smile and knowing eyes. “And I promise I’ll be back afterward to help you prepare. I could also take Henry home after we’re done and just hang out with him at the manor while you do your thing.”

And, well, at least this entire date debacle wouldn’t interfere with more important matters. With that thought in mind, Regina nods, settling the tension in the room. Henry smiles at her from the couch and Regina’s chest doesn’t feel so tight anymore.

By the time the clock strikes eleven, Marian is halfway to her Honda Odyssey and Henry is building some type of fortress in the creative mode of his game while Regina debates sending Ashley to get them lunch. The decision is made for her when Ashley ambles in and explains that her babysitter called. Her son has a fever that’s reached a hundred and two and she needs to be home with him. 

She sees the desperation on the young girl’s face and simply nods, giving her permission to take the rest of the day. She remembers being a new mom, newly elected to the Mayor’s office, and struggling to not worry about every cough, cry, and sneeze. She’s served nearly three terms in office since then and it hasn’t gotten any easier. As her son ages, she becomes afraid of much more than a cold, and for good reason. 

“Henry?” She calls out to her son as she rises from her desk chair and slips into her light jacket. The quick clicks of his controller pause. “I’m going to get us some lunch. Do you want to come with me? Perhaps some fresh air would be nice.”

He clearly ponders it but turns back to his game with a quiet decline and Regina bites down on her lip to quell the sudden need to sob. He’s been this way, distant and cold, for nearly six months, but it hasn’t gotten easier to handle.

She locks the office door behind her, just as a precaution because Ashley is absent, then strolls out of the building. The coffee shop Marian mentioned is easy to spot. The facade is white brick, making it stand out against the neighboring businesses—a boutique and a small office building rented out by various psychologists, psychiatrists, and licensed clinical social workers. She’d been reading works by one of the therapists, Archibald Hopper, stationed in that building and contemplating having Henry meet with him. 

But the two buildings faded to white noise against the decorative design of the coffee shop. _ Storybook Brews. _The words are carved in bold text and painted white across dark aged wood. Intricate vines twist around the words before slowly morphing into steam as they reach the top of the sign. It‘s creative, bold, and certainly eye-catching, which makes Regina wince at her own ignorance. 

She drives past the shop on a daily basis on her way to the town hall parking garage and managed to be too wound up and trapped in thought to notice a new small business. That certainly wouldn’t due. One of her main political platforms was supporting small business and creating a city that promoted local business ownership. She’s known for being extremely effective but aloof. She hardly interacted with the citizenry outside of town hall events and it was a sore spot for her campaign. Still, she always won the office by a landslide. 

With sudden determination, she crosses the street and enters the coffee shop confidently. The first thing she notices is the woman standing behind the counter, her hip bent against it and her hand pressing a landline phone to her ear. She’s whispering under her breath, something about _ yeast, _and Regina takes the moment to drag her eyes across the woman’s obviously fit body and glowing skin. The womans’ dark t-shirt, jeans, and combat boots give her an air of casual power. The apron draped across her is ridiculously tight and hasn’t stopped some flour from coating the black t-shirt underneath. She’s insanely attractive and Regina can feel a bolt of lust zip through her before she can control it. It’s been a long time since someone touched her intimately, and much longer since a woman was the one to do so. 

Being a single mother with a full-time job made life complicated. As did her issues with commitment, but that was neither here nor there. 

The second thing she notices is the intricate interior decor. The left wall is lined with dark mahogany bookshelves. One shelf seems to be filled with storybooks. Some of the books have titles she easily recognizes, like _ Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs _ and _ Cinderella _, but there’s what looks to be original, modern works. She wonders if the store promotes local writers. The other bookshelves are home to a variety of stories that range of classics to obscure. The walls are a warm red, which matches perfectly with the dark wood of the shelves, floor, tables, benches, chairs, and the counter. The walls are lined with iconic fairy tale imagery in sleek modern frames. 

It’s a stark change from the previous coffee shop stationed here. It was owned by a retired Navy officer that lost his hand during a drunken fight with a fellow officer. His shop was all dark, dark blues and dark wood, with an abundance of alcohol, drunkards, and cigar smoke. It was known for its toxic environment, especially toward women, and a location where illegal gambling, solicitation of prostitution, and distribution of drugs occurred. It was a sore spot in Boston and the city health inspector agreed. The shop was shut down a year after its grand opening. 

The third thing she notices is that the shop is empty. She checks her watch. It’s not yet noon. Perhaps employees hadn’t been released for lunch yet. She smiles. All the better for her. 

It’s then, as she takes a step forward, that the blonde notices her presence and startles slightly before becoming frozen, mouth agape and cheeks pink. It makes Regina stutter step slightly. They stare at one another for far too long to be appropriate, their eyes connected in a way that would usually make Regina cringe. A blaring car horn springs the blonde into action. 

She smiles at Regina and starts walking toward the cash register. The barista opens her mouth to say something, but the landline phone cord grows taut and snaps the blonde back, sending her flying across the back of the counter to the floor, out of sight. The impact shakes the room and there’s a clatter of plates intermingled with colorful curse words.

_ “Shit. Fuck. Not now, Ruby!” _The blonde yelps from behind the counter and Regina has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. The laughs spasm against her ribs, becoming unbearable as the blonde tries to grab the edge of the counter to steady her ascent, only to accidentally grab onto the tip jar and send her body back to the floor with a two handfuls of change raining down on her. 

And Regina loses all of her decorum. The mirth spills from her heartily, echoing around the room and bringing tears to her eyes. She can’t remember the last time she allowed herself to laugh so freely and unrestrained. The blonde fumbles for the counter again and manages to get a grip to pull herself up onto her knees and rest her chin on the dark wooden slat. The barista’s green eyes are latched onto Regina’s mirthful brown ones and she’s clearly embarrassed, but underneath that, there’s something warm. It draws her in, and she finds her legs moving forward.

The blonde grits her teeth, her embarrassment becoming more prominent as Regina gets closer and is able to see the absolute chaos behind the counter. There’s coins and scattered plates, some shattered, everywhere. Regina looks at her name tag. _ Emma _. So, the klutz of a barista is Emma, she thinks with too much warmth toward a stranger.

“So, uh, how’s it going?” Emma says from below. 

Regina chuckles lightly. “I think it’s safe to say it’s going much more smoothly for me than it is for you, dear.”

“Well, that’s a low bar.” Emma teases, trying to make light of her misfortune. It’s _ endearing _. The thought makes Regina tense. The beautiful blonde rises to her feet, steadily this time, and wipes her hands against her black apron. “What can I get you?” 

Regina swallows her residual mirth and arousal, and says, “A grilled chicken salad, grilled cheese, tomato soup, and two bottled waters.”

The blonde grins and quirks an eyebrow. “Would you like to try our new bear claws?”

Regina smiles back, though she knows it lacks that carefree quality it had earlier. She’s closing off, putting her walls back in place. “A bear claw?” 

The blonde points toward the back wall, where neat trays displayed the freshly baked goods. “They’re a pastry with icing. We have claws filled with milk chocolate spread, hazelnut spread, or the classic almond paste. No raisins on any of them.” 

Regina spots the trays labeled as bear claws and notices how sugary the claw-shaped pastry seems to be with the abundance of icing glistening on top. She hesitates because of her need to watch her figure and keep Henry healthy, but the blonde must see it, because she adds, “One can’t hurt, right? We gotta treat ourselves to good stuff every once in a while.” 

Regina wants to balk at this woman’s audacity, but she somehow feels charmed, and she _ hates _it. Yet, she doesn’t reject the sweet pastry when the blonde shoves it into her hand and tells her it’s on her tab. She’s ready to throw it on the counter and berate the woman, but the blonde smiles, wide and endearing, and her eyes are sad, brimming with hidden pain.

She stares at the woman, then the pastry. A second passes. 

She takes a bite.

  



	2. Going for Seconds

“It was better than I could’ve expected, Em. We talked about everything and anything, and she was so sweet—“

“Yeah, yeah, you’re sickening.” 

Mulan stops wiping the metal counters by the ovens to turn slowly and glare at Emma, who‘s kneading the dough for the next days’ batch of pastries. “No need to be a downer, dude.”

Her friend’s serious and hurt tone makes her feel enough remorse to apologize and gesture for her to continue with her detailed storytelling about the date she had with Marian that afternoon. “Fine, I’ll keep my comments to myself. Go on.” 

Mulan rolls her eyes, but there’s enough playful teasing to assuage Emma’s guilt. 

“We went to Tiana’s, that little bakery a few blocks away, and just had good food, amazing conversation, and we clicked so well. I just—“ Mulan stops and Emma lifts her head to see her shoulders tight and tense, “it’s been a long time since I felt that way. Not since...“ _ Aurora _ . Mulan’s fiancée that was hit by a drunk driver and lasted years in a coma before she finally passed away, and her friends reason for being at that grief group. Emma swallows roughly. She wants to reach out, to comfort, but she’s learned that Mulan doesn’t like to be touched when she’s emotional. 

So, she covers the bowl of dough with saran and presses the sides so it clings tightly to it. The yeast needs to rise for a few hours. Usually she comes in a few hours before opening to bake the pastries while Mulan wipes down the eating area tables and mops the floors. For now, she sticks the bowl off to the side and washes her hands thoroughly. 

“What about you?” Mulan asks suddenly, her voice just loud enough for Emma to hear her over the rushing water. “How was your day, the afternoon shift?”

She shuts off the water and shakes the excess dripping from her fingers before grabbing a hand towel from the nearby rack. Hesitantly, she says, “It was alright. I managed to sleep a few hours this morning, handled the lunch rush around noon like a pro, and, uh, made a complete fool of myself in front of the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.” 

Mulan pauses, spray bottle and rag gripped in her hands, her eyes wide and amused. “Sexiest woman you’ve ever seen? Whoa there. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say something like that before.”

Emma blushes, because it’s true. She’s never really felt attraction in the same way others do. It’s rare for another person to make her needy and lustful, but that day—watching the brunette bombshell strut toward her in tight business attire and black high heels Emma would happily allow to trample all over her—she felt it. 

Her hands shook as she made the woman’s order. Her cheeks were pink the entire time, partly due to the heat of the small stove top off in the back of the coffee shop but mostly due to the brunette woman smirking at her from across the front counter and through the window opening to the back of the house. 

She never even got to ask for a name. The moment Emma gave the brunette her order and change back, they parted ways with shy smiles. She’s never seen her before in the shop and she worries she may never see her again.

The fact that she  _ wants _ to see her again is also troubling. 

“I’m not  _ blind _ , Mulan.” Emma defends hastily. She doesn’t want this to turn into a big deal. “She came in for lunch before noon and I  _ may _ have forgotten that you’ve decided to try to bring back landlines with coiled cords.” Mulan snorts from across the kitchen and Emma finds herself laughing along. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. The mystery woman found it just as hilarious apparently.” 

Still smirking, Mulan asks, “What did she look like? Maybe she’s a regular?” 

“Uh, short brown hair, business lady supreme, big brown eyes, a scar on her upper lip?” Emma lists off absentmindedly, thinking back to the first moment she laid eyes on the woman and froze on the spot. 

She misses the flash of recognition on Mulan’s face. “Wait, the  _ mayor? _ ”

“Wha—“

“The Mayor, Emma. She has brown hair, brown eyes, and a scar on her lip. That’s Marian’s boss,” Mulan covers her mouth with her hands and snorts into her palm. “ _ Oh my god _ , you made a fool of yourself in front of the Mayor of Boston.” 

The smile falls from Emma’s face as quickly as it came. 

~|SQ|~

She’s not sure what she’s doing, really, standing outside the Mayor’s office at eight in the morning with a variety box of bear claws and a dream. Of what? She’s not sure. The secretary, a pretty young blonde, is watching her with curious eyes from behind her sleek, glass desk right next to the Mayors’ office door. 

She was surprised she was able to get to the waiting area here. After bribing the lobby security officer with pastry, it was a clear and uninterrupted trek to the Mayor’s office. 

Nearly ten minutes have gone by and Emma can tell the blonde secretary is debating whether to send Emma away without a second thought or relay the message to her boss to see what happens. She sends the weary blonde a wobbly smile, because it’s way too early and she’s way too sleep deprived to give her much else, and it works. The blonde sighs and reaches for her phone (cordless, because not everyone is a stickler for vintage like her insane business partner). 

“Madame Mayor?” The secretary calls out and Emma can hear the faint echo behind the closed door. She can imagine the Mayor scribbling away at paperwork and getting slightly startled by the interruption. A few seconds pass. “Sorry to disturb, but you have a visitor. An Emma Swan. She says she works at the coffee shop across the street.” The blonde looks disinterested at first, like she expects a particular answer, but it’s only seconds later when she jolts and stares at Emma with a slightly awed expression as she slowly places the phone back into its cradle. “Uh, go on in.”

Truthfully, she’s just as surprised that she wasn’t turned away. Why would the Mayor of Boston waste another second on her, the klutz of a barista that made a fool of herself just the day before? 

When she steps into the Mayor’s office, she notices only one thing—or person, she should say. The brunette woman— _ Regina Mills _ —stops scribbling on a document to  _ smile _ at her. Her legs honestly weren’t ready for  _ that _ again.

They’re just staring at each other from across the room, small smiles and warmth filling the space between them, and Emma nervously plays with the strings tied around the box as she manages to quietly, shyly, greet her. “Hi again.” 

The brunette’s eyes are filled with amusement now, and Emma starts to think she’s been let in because she’s basically a side show for the well-dressed and eloquent political genius (that’s how Mulan described her when she finally quit belly laughing at her misery). 

“Hello again, dear. I have to say I’m quite surprised to see you.” The words could’ve been sharp and hurtful if her tone wasn’t so light and conversational. Emma relaxes. Her presence isn’t being forced upon the other woman.

And because Emma learned to always get in front of a joke before it’s used against her, she steps forward a bit, her grin toothy and teasing, and says, “Don’t worry. I don’t see any cords around, so I  _ probably _ won’t end up flying over your desk and into your lap.”

Regina leans back in her chair, smug, and purrs, “What a shame.” 

Emma almost chokes on her tongue. It’s honestly pathetic how wobbly her knees are. Because she’s being toyed with, right? There’s no way she isn’t. Firstly, during her extensive research the night before, she found out Regina Mills was married to a man—a Daniel Stables—who tragically died after a destabilizing heart attack at thirty years old, leaving a young Regina Mills a widow. And sure, she  _ could _ be bisexual, but the odds feel nearly nonexistent. There weren’t any mentions of dips in the lady pond during her research. In fact, Regina was rumored to be having a torrid relationship with the city’s police commissioner, Graham Humbert. All of that aside, even if Regina was into chicks somehow, she would never be into  _ her _ . She’s a bumbling, foolish, and klutzy ex-convict, for Christ’s sake.

She’s snapped out of her thoughts by the creak of a door to the right of Regina. A young boy is groggily stepping into the room from what seems to be a small bathroom connected to the Mayor’s office. He ambles toward the center of the office, rubbing his eye with his left hand as he yawns widely, completely oblivious. His flannel striped pajamas are wrinkled, like he just rolled out of bed or something. 

“Henry...” Regina’s voice is soft and warm, and Emma can’t help but feel a multitude of things all at once.  _ Henry _ . She’s pretty sure this is  _ the _ son she read so much about. Apparently he was the center of tabloid attention for several weeks, Emma remembers with a cringe. 

The boy shakes out of his stupor and finally sees the guest in the room. He stares, his gaze flickering between her face and the warm box in her hands that has a delicious scent wafting up and around the room. He looks like he’s debating something when suddenly he asks, “Something in the box?” 

“Henry!” Regina scolds him for the impoliteness, but Emma laughs it off. She has to admit she likes the spunk. 

“So, I kind of made a fool of myself yesterday in front of the Mayor,” Emma jerks her head in Regina’s direction and smirks at the clear amusement she sees in those knowing brown eyes. The boy looks just as amused already and Emma gives herself a pat on the back. “And I thought I should at least pay some reparations for the borderline circus act she had to witness. I come with said reparations in the form of a bear claw—or a box of them, actually. They just popped out of the oven less than an hour ago.”

The boy— _ Henry _ —lights up at the thought of food and Emma feels some weird kinship over that fact as she hands over the box with the shops name and logo printed on top. He slides off the strings loosely holding the box shut and opens the lid and licks his lips at the sight of the golden pastry and sweet icing. With wide eyes, he asks, “You made these?” 

“Every morning,” Emma reveals, baring her teeth for a proud smile. She may have a well-known dislike of coffee, but her love for pastry is unrivaled. “I co-own the coffee shop across the street,  _ Storybook Brews _ .” 

Regina’s stunned reply of “ _ co-own? _ ” is drowned out by the young boys excited gasp, “Fa’s coffee shop?! Marian’s crush?”

Emma scrunches her nose. “Fa? You mean Mulan?”

Henry matches her nose scrunch and it looks oddly similar to her own. She thinks about the baby she gave away, to give him a better chance than she had. “Who’s Mulan?”

Emma chuckles now, understanding the confusion. Marian has only ever called Mulan by her last name and they always thought it was just playful teasing. “Marian’s crush—or more than that now, I guess—is Fa Mulan. Fa is her last name.”

“Why does it come first then?” Henry asks. He seems genuinely curious. 

Regina looks poised to scold him again but Emma cuts her off, “Her family is from China and they put their last names first.”

“Oh,” Henry nods. “That makes sense.” 

The boy is smart and compassionate, and Emma can’t help but direct her pleased smile at Regina, the person that instilled those qualities into the teen. The brunette seems just as pleased by his response.

Before she gets lost in Regina’s, well, everything, she turns back to Henry, who’s eyeing the pastries. “So, you’ve got hazelnut spread and milk chocolate,” She points to the two rows toward the right as she explains. The hazelnut row is sprinkled with finely chopped almonds while the chocolate is plain, lacking the signature icing. Her finger moves to the next row. “This is the almond paste one, which is the most common.” She moves on to the last row. “And this is a plain one with icing.” Sheepishly, she tacks on this last bit, “You’ve got a variety, four of each, and I figured you could share with some of the staff. If anyone asks, we wouldn’t begrudge a shoutout.”

Unexpectedly, the joke lands just right, making the brunette behind the desk laugh heartily and freely. It’s deep, raspy, melodic, and Emma’s frozen in place, bewitched by the sound. Even Henry, with half of the plain bear claw shoved into his mouth, chews slowly as he stares at his mother. He looks...  _ shocked?  _ Like he hasn’t heard that sound in a long time, which wouldn’t be surprising if the tabloids are to be believed. 

“Mighty bold of you, Miss—Swan, was it?” Regina says with cheeks flushed and fingers curled around each other as they balance a strong chin on top of them. She looks powerful there, like that. Behind her desk with a gold plaque stating her title in capital letters, with her black dress snug and fit, with her hair perfectly coiffed and her lipstick bright red against the dark design of the room, she’s a vision. 

For a reason she can’t understand, the tense silence that falls over the room isn’t awkward. It’s almost like there’s a current between them that’ll zap anyone that tries to stand in the way. She doesn’t get to rhapsodize about their sexual tension for long though. A sharp elbow knocks into her ribs and shakes a response from her lungs.

“Swan!” Emma squeaks and it’s so embarrassing that even Henry is pursing his lips. Regina’s still smirking.  _ Wonderful _ . She clears her throat and calmly repeats, “Yeah, Swan. Emma Swan.” She starts sweating when Henry looks between them, his eyes flickering back and forth with intrigue. “So, uh, yeah. I hope you guys enjoy the bear claws. Tell Marian I said hi too. I won’t be at the shop until around four so I’ll probably miss her at lunch.”

Regina smiles softly at her. “Will do, Miss Swan.” 

Emma’s fingers shake. She sends mother and son a wobbly smile then turns away.

Henry watches her until she’s gone.

* * *

Henry waits until they’re settled at the desk, sweet bear claws in their hands, to make the comment Regina knew was coming from the moment he stared at Emma’s retreating form then turned to her with knowing eyes. “She’s nice, huh?”

She tears a piece of the hazelnut bear claw off, brings it to her lips, and clears her throat. “Yes, dear. Miss Swan seems quite nice.” 

Henry smiles knowingly. “You like her.”

She jolts so hard her knee smacks the edge of the desk and hisses, “She’s a klutzy imbecile!”

“She was  _ quite nice _ a second ago.” _ _

“ _ Henry _ .” 

“ _ Mom _ .”

Regina groans and shoves the piece of bear claw into her mouth. The move only has Henry’s smile growing.  _ The little shit _ . She raised him to be that way, so she can’t even grumble too much about it. Not to mention that Henry sending a smile in her direction is rare these days and she can’t say she’s even slightly annoyed to have respite from their usual—at least recently—chilly relationship. 

That pure joy zipping through her makes honesty easier. She swallows the sweet pastry, suppressing a groan when the Nutella hits her taste buds. 

“She’s... attractive and very endearing,” She admits quietly as she reaches for her water. Her somber tone wipes the smugness from Henry’s expression. She’s quick to add, “And that’s all there is to it.”

“Mom,” He sighs, all traces of humor gone. “I can’t be your entire life.”

It stings. It isn’t meant to, she knows, but it twists around her heart like a vine with thorns. She nods quickly, staring at the half bear claw between her fingers with slightly wet eyes. 

“Perhaps, but I don’t need any more complications, and that’s what a relationship would be.” 

Henry puts his own pastry down and watches, thoughtful, as she takes another bite of her claw. What he says next knocks the wind out of her. Quietly, softly, he says, “You deserve to be happy.” 

She sucks in a silent breath, swallowing her gasp, and jerks her head up to stare at him. He looks so sincere, his eyes full of admiration she thought was long gone, and the thorny vines around her heart loosen for the first time in months. 

“You make me happy, Henry,” She whispers, her voice wavering with emotion. 

“Yeah,” Henry concedes quickly. At least he knows he’s still her entire world. “But you deserve more. Just... be open to it?”

“To what, Henry? She’s simply a stranger that made a fool of herself—“

“Don’t lie to me,” He huffs. “You’ve done enough of that.” 

The vine tightens until thorns pierce. He takes his bear claw and water and sits in front of the TV, ignoring her helpless eyes as they trail after him, wishing her heart wasn’t cracking into pieces with each step he takes. 

* * *

Regina steers clear of the coffee shop after Henry’s outburst. She doesn’t want to give him false hope. Perhaps she doesn’t want to give herself any either, because love is pain. Even loving Henry is painful, especially now, but being his mother was, and always will be, worth it. 

She ignores the disappointment she feels when she realizes that the blonde isn’t planning to come around either. She spends too much time pondering what she did to scare her away. Was her flirting too blatant or unwanted? 

This obsession—she rolled her eyes when her sister had called it that over the phone after Regina ranted about the situation and Henry’s reaction to it—has her on edge. So, when Marian talks about a second lunch date with Mulan, Regina has to pretend to be disinterested. 

“Mm, sounds just fine, dear. I can get us some lunch.” 

Marian, oblivious to Regina’s internal turmoil about the blonde barista, just nods, thankful, and starts packing up her purse. “I’ll be back before two.”

Henry pops up from the couch, propping his chin on the back and watching them with interest. 

“Of course. Have a good time with the barista.” Regina twists her uncapped pen between her fingers and tries to avoid the eyes on her by staring at the paperwork on her desk until the letters become blurry. 

Marian rolls her eyes at the brunette. “She owns the place, Regina.”

“Co-owns,” Regina corrects much too quickly and scolds herself internally when she hears Henry snort mockingly. Thankfully, Marian doesn’t make the moment any more awkward. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Marian waves her off then zips her purse closed. “I’ll see you both later.” She looks at Henry and adds, “Behave.” 

Henry rolls his eyes at his mother’s best friend, but those hazel eyes are full of teasing. It lacks the negativity and agitation he seems to save for Regina. 

About thirty minutes after Marian leaves, she slips into her blazer and grabs her purse from the coat rack near the bathroom tucked in the corner, but freezes when she sees Henry tugging on his sneakers. 

“Darling, where are you going?” 

“To the coffee shop with you,” He responds curtly. “To see Emma.”

Regina sighs under her breath. This should be interesting. 

* * *

Emma leans against the front counter and grimaces at space where the long lunch line packed with disgruntled patrons stood not even half an hour ago. She’s not used to the lunch rush, which is their greatest source of revenue. Mulan typically handles pressure with much more ease than her, but she’s stepping up for her friend again today. 

So, when she hears the coffee shop door open and beep to signal a new arrival, she groans quietly. That groan turns into a squeak of surprise when she hears a voice she definitely isn’t expecting.

“Emma!” 

She turns toward the entrance and smiles at a frazzled looking Mayor and her jubilant son as they step through the door. She’s been thinking about them non-stop, which has been a source of stress for her non-committal side, and had to force herself not to go back to the Mayor’s office. She already made a big enough fool of herself when she waltzed in there with a box of pastry and a dopey smile. 

Henry’s already standing right in front of Emma at the counter when Regina stumbles behind him, sighing agitatedly, and she can’t help but chuckle.

“Hey, Emma!” Henry greets her with enough enthusiasm to make her quirk an eyebrow. “My mom and I missed you—“

“—your bear claws.” Regina cuts off her son as she slips beside him. Her purse is barely hanging on to her shoulder and her hair looks windblown, and Emma can imagine the Mayor running after her son across the street in mild panic. 

“Well, we got some right here whenever you get a craving.” Emma responds. Seeing the two people that have occupied her mind for the past week has simultaneously cheered her up and turned her anxiety up ten notches. There’s a fluttering in her stomach that makes her groan internally. She  _ refuses _ to become like Mulan, all lovesick and... happy. She groans internally for another reason altogether. 

Henry nudges his mother with his elbow. “Whenever we want, mom.” 

The elbow is swiftly smacked away. “Yes,  _ Henry _ , I heard her.” Finally, Regina looks at Emma and she seems, dare she say it,  _ shy _ . It’s so far removed from the confident and flirty Mayor she met a week ago. “Hello again, Miss Swan. We’ll have a—“

“A grilled chicken salad, a grilled cheese, tomato soup, and two bottled waters?” Emma rattles off the order and she smirks when Regina’s mouth opens and closes, astonished. 

“You—“ Regina trails off with a clearing of the throat, but the “ _ remembered”  _ still reverberates through the barista’s mind, because she remembers almost everything from that day and it’s a bit pathetic _ .  _ Emma nods, smiling shyly. 

“How can I forget my favorite customers?” 

Something softens. Maybe it’s Regina’s smile. Maybe it’s Henry’s airy laugh. Maybe it’s the blush on Emma’s cheeks. 

Whatever it is, it feels right. And that? That’s truly terrifying.

  
  



	3. Brewing

Emma sniffs her hazelnut bear claw and her eyes slip shut in ecstasy. They would’ve stayed shut three months ago. Now? She has a better view.

Across the table is the Mayor and her son, two people she’s grown attached to no matter how hard she’s tried not to. They’ve become permanent fixtures in her thoughts and in her heart, and nothing she’s done has shaken that. 

She tried distancing herself. She didn’t go to the Mayor’s office, she moved her shift an hour or two forward to avoid lunch, and once tried to hide behind the counter when Marian came in one afternoon. None of it worked. Henry kept coming back with his giant smile and knowing eyes, dragging his mother along behind him. He managed to find out when she worked and adjusted. At first, it drove her insane, but after a while, she felt so much affection. Someone was fighting to see her, fighting  _ for _ her. It flooded her chest with too much warmth to ignore.

And his mother? She was a tougher case to crack. After their intense flirtation those first two interactions, she cooled down and became difficult to read. She wasn’t stoic or cold, but there was clearly some distance placed between them. It didn’t bother her then because she wanted that distance, wanted to remain unaffected, but now she’s fully infected by these feelings and it’s become a nuisance. 

Still, their relationship is fulfilling. They tease one another and banter, and there are moments where Regina dips into flirtation before snapping back to friendliness. It wouldn’t be a problem if Emma wasn’t quickly realizing she wants more from the Mayor. She doesn’t push though. She just continues to hope the brunette will take a chance on her, even if she’s probably never been with a woman before.

When her eyes open, Regina’s sipping her water daintily and Henry’s slurping on a spoonful of tomato soup while his wide eyes skim the Batwoman comic book page on the table. She isn’t surprised when he starts his questioning.

“Antman or Ironman?” He asks, never looking away from the page with Katherine Kane smack dab in the middle in her signature costume. 

“Antman,” Emma answers easily after she swallows her bite of bear claw. She reaches for her soda bottle. 

“Really? I thought you’d totally pick Tony.” Henry responds. His nose is crinkled in that way that’s so reminiscent of his mother. 

“Why’s that? Because they have the same ego?” Regina chimes in, teasing and jovial despite there being a Town Hall tonight.

Town Halls during Pride month have always been interesting apparently. Regina’s a progressive Democrat and has stated her positive views on the LGBTQ movement and equality, but every June, without fail, she has to deal with homophobic hecklers and townsfolk. Emma’s surprised she isn’t vibrating with anxiety.

“Tony Stark wishes he could be me.” Emma winks at the grinning mother-son duo. 

“So, why Antman?” Henry asks around a mouthful of grilled cheese, which makes Regina sigh. The brunette doesn’t scold him though and Emma now knows Regina holds back and picks her battles with him since he found out he was adopted. Her fear of losing him makes her tiptoe around him. 

She shrugs and decides against revealing just how much she has in common with the formerly incarcerated comic book hero. ”He’s funny. Plus, The Wasp is a pretty awesome partner.” 

“Tony is funny! And Pepper Potts exists too!” 

Emma licks some hazelnuts spread from her thumb and immediately notices how Regina’s brown eyes zero in on her tongue flicking against her finger. She waits until Regina’s eyes drift up to stare into hers. “What can I say, brunettes are my type.” 

Regina chokes on a piece of lettuce. Henry snorts. He loves to do that every time there’s even an inkling of sexual tension between his mom and Emma. 

“Funny,” Regina says, voice raspy, “Blondes are mine.” She clears her throat before Emma can even react and smiles at her son. “Henry, put down your comic and tell Emma about Boston Pride, won’t you? Perhaps you can even convince her to join us.”

And, well, she supposes they’ll continue to balance on the precipice of _something_ _more_ for awhile longer.

* * *

Copley Square is packed with people and decked out with colorful flags, and Emma takes it all in from the back of the stage in the center of the park. Regina just gave a short, impassioned speech about love and equality where she called herself an  _ ally _ while Emma, Marian, and Henry listened and watched from backstage. The label might’ve made Emma’s heart sink just a bit. The Mayor is now making her way toward them in her rainbow-striped shirt and white khakis. She’ll fit in perfectly among the Boston Pride parade crowd. 

She knows she’s staring at the brunette, especially when Marian elbows her in the ribs and snickers. As if she has any room to talk with the way she practically melted into Mulan’s side the moment she showed up after handing over the reins at the shop to their friend Ruby. 

They walk toward the start location with security flanking them and are placed right at the front, leaning against the barricade and enjoying a clear view of the floats as they move by. The atmosphere is light and fun, and Emma’s mesmerized when Regina starts swaying with the music each float plays. Marian and Mulan are on her other side, huddled together and smiling at the bright floats as they go by and Emma’s envious. She wishes she could hold Regina like that. But she can’t, and she probably will never get to. 

She scuffs her sneakers against the concrete until a pinkie rubs against hers. She looks down as Regina’s finger wraps loosely around her own. Henry’s watching them with that smile again. She wishes it meant something. 

Still, their pinkies stay linked until Henry gets tired of standing. When Regina’s hand pulls away, it leaves behind a host of contradictions that make Emma’s head spin. 

They head over to the local ice cream shop,  _ Any Given Sundae _ , and savor their favorite flavors while sitting by the front glass windows and enjoying the crowds passing by on their journeys across the city. It’s a hot day, but it doesn’t deter the event goers. Marian and Mulan finish their small scoops before bidding them farewell. They’re going back to Mulan’s place since Roland is with his father. 

As the two walk away hand-in-hand, Regina gives Henry a couple of quarters so he can go play the arcade games set up in the back of the ice cream parlor. That leaves them at the table alone with their shy looks and melting ice cream. 

“Did you enjoy the parade?” Regina asks after wiping some chocolate ice cream from the corner of her mouth. 

Emma nods. “Yeah, it was nice to be surrounded by people that understand, you know?” 

She’s fishing for information, to see if Regina will say she’s ally when no one else is there to gossip, judge, or spin a story. But Regina just smiles brightly at her, looking joyful. Instead of asking about that particular tidbit, Regina asks, “So, why Antman?” 

It’s been a week or two since the conversation in the shop with Henry, so it takes her a second to realize what she’s being asked. It’s also interesting that Regina remembers the seemingly inconsequential response to his question.

Emma grips her plastic spoon tight between her fingers and plays with the small lump of ice cream left in her cup. It’s not that she fears Regina will judge her, because she knows she won’t, but she’s worried that the politician will see her as a liability to her career and campaign. 

Because no one really wants to be affiliated with an ex-con, especially a politician. But her relationship with Regina and Henry can’t be tainted by a lie. 

“Antman is a good guy that got in some trouble trying to survive. He went to prison, repaid his debt to society, and worked hard to be better for his family. When I went to prison, I wanted to believe I was a good person just trying to survive. I was just eighteen, living on the street, and I got in with the wrong person. When I got out, I also worked hard to make better decisions and be better, and if Scott could find a family, a Hope, and a happy ending after everything, then maybe I could too.” 

The smile on Regina’s face fades slowly and Emma’s heart sinks. She’s not sure what she expects, but it certainly isn’t Regina’s hand sliding across the table to grab her hand and squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Emma.” She says genuinely, with caring eyes. “That must’ve been difficult.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Emma clears her throat. It suddenly feels harder to breathe with her eyes burning. “It was hard. All of it. Being a foster kid, on the run, being betrayed by a man that just used me. He knew I wasn’t sexually attracted to him, but he also knew I needed help, so he took what he wanted and used me as a scapegoat when the cops were onto him. When I got out, I had no one, until I had Mulan, then Ruby and Granny, then Marian, and now you and Henry.”

“You found a family, dear.” Regina’s thumb caresses her skin gently and Emma smiles.

“I did.” 

* * *

“You didn’t have to bring a notebook and pen, Regina. I printed the recipe for you, which took a lot of convincing by the way.” Emma quickly wipes down the metal counter and smiles at their reflection in the surface. “Mulan was pretty adamant about keeping it secret. Apparently Marian convinced her.”

“We don’t need details on how,” Regina snarks playfully. 

She looks beautiful today in her casual garb. Her black t-shirt is tight and shows off muscular biceps that she worked hard for at the gym on her free time. She was surprised to feel them against her body the first time they hugged goodbye (yes, it was awkward, but Emma will never forget the soft perfume and silky hair that slipped between her fingers). Her black jeans are also tight and show her curves. Those aren’t a surprise. Her skirt and blouse combination never hid the woman’s beautiful body. 

She nods at Regina with a knowing look and returns the smirk before getting down to business. Well, sort of. The shop’s front door was locked and Emma was off the clock, but teaching Regina Mills how to do anything was serious stuff. “Okay, bear claws! First, we take half of our puff pastry—”

“How much is half?” Regina asks dutifully, uncapping her pen and starting to scribble in her notebook. 

With affection, Emma responds lightly, “Three pounds total, so about one and a half pounds to start here. Make sure the surface is lightly covered with flour or the pastry will stick.”

“I’m not inept, Miss Swan. I do know the basics.” 

Emma lifts her flour-covered hands in surrender and winks before laying the puff pastry on the floured metal. She lifts a sharp knife in her hand and begins to slice down the middle of the square piece. “We cut this in half and split the parts. Now, we put in our filing. In this case, it’s just a hazelnut spread.”

Emma slathers some of the brown, delicious spread onto the center of the two pastry halves then slides the bowl with egg wash toward them. She coats the first pastry’s edges and flips the far side over the hazelnut spread to seal the piece shut. She takes her knife and cuts slits on the edge to give the pastry its signature look before taking her spatula and sliding the piece onto a tray. 

She reaches for the second piece but stops when a gentle hands lands on hers. Regina’s eyes are warm and the edges are crinkled, and Emma’s in awe of her. 

“Perhaps I could attempt the second? They say hands on practice is always best.” The sultry way she says it is enough to make Emma’s knees weak, but then Regina slips into the space between her and the metal table, bringing their bodies close enough to press together with each breath. Regina leans back, bringing them tightly together, for no reason at all to whisper. “Pass me the spread.” 

Emma’s pretty sure her brain is fried, but she manages to reach over and slide the Nutella container toward the brunette. Their fingers brush as Regina takes it from her, and Emma’s hand seems to have a mind of its own as it slides over Regina’s hand and up her arm slowly. Regina shivers slightly against her and it warms Emma up until she’s blushing. 

When Regina doesn’t move, Emma leans in and presses her mouth to her ear. She wants to say so much, express everything she’s been feeling, but she doesn’t. She just breathes against the skin that’s so soft and warm. Regina’s shoulders lift as another shiver runs from head to toe.

_ Something more  _ is knocking at the door and, god, Emma wants to answer, but Regina doesn’t  _ do _ this. Emma just knows it from all of their interactions. She pulls Emma in then pushes her away. That’s how they work. 

But Regina doesn’t stick to the script this time. She swivels to face her and stares, their mouths close enough to make Emma gasp. 

And then their lips are pressing together. It’s chaste, shy, and gentle at first, as if they’re testing to make sure it’s okay to be doing this. It’s ridiculous really, because they’ve both clearly been wanting this kiss for months, but rejection and hurt has scarred them both. After a few seconds, Emma’s mouth drops open to accommodate Regina’s pouting lip, and Regina moans quietly when she sucks on the lower lip harshly. Emma pulls back, stretching Regina’s lip a bit before letting go. Regina’s mouth is already swollen and her neck looks smooth and inviting. She’s desperate to lick a path up that neck and around that ear curve. 

But then Regina is jolting and slipping away from her, banging into the table slightly and sending the bowl of Nutella flying to the other end. Emma’s heart sinks at the panic she sees in the other woman’s eyes. 

When Regina turns and runs, Emma’s knees are weak for an entirely different reason. 

* * *

Marian notices her panic the moment she steps into the mayoral mansion. 

“What happened? Why do you look like you saw a ghost?” 

Henry immediately runs into the foyer and stands next to his god mother and stares at Regina with a look that’s so intuitive and knowing that she feels her eyes burn. They’d had something so good with Emma the last few months. She felt... like the missing piece, and having her in their lives as a friend was  _ enough _ . Henry was right. 

_ “You ruin everything you touch! You grabbed onto Robin and ruined a family. You grabbed onto me and held too tight. You grabbed onto dad and he died!” _

Her chest feels like it’s caving in. She can’t catch her breath. Her knees wobble as a sob catches in her throat but Marian’s there, wrapping her arms around her waist and holding her up. That’s what Marian does. She lifts everyone up.

Regina ruins everything she touches. 

“Regina, you’re scaring me. Breathe.” Marian leads her to the master bedroom urgently, her own panic growing from watching her best friend practically fall into a catatonic state. When Henry moves to follow, Marian puts out one hand and stops him. “Henry, give us some space and time. I’ll come get you when we’re settled, alright?” She sees his terror and adds, “I promise everything will be okay. Just do as I say.”

Regina hates the worry she’s causing, but she can’t speak, can barely stand or breathe, and her eyes are blurred from tears. This isn’t just about Emma. It’s  _ everything _ . Her heart is battered and bruised, and... she just can’t be in love with Emma Swan.

_ Goddamn it _ . 

* * *

Emma’s flipping the light switch to the exterior lamps when she sees Henry running across the street in his Captain Marvel pajamas. Without a second thought, she unlocks the front door. She may be heartbroken, but that kid owns half of her heart. 

She opens the door, pulling the sides of her red leather jacket closed to keep the cool night air away from her, and yell, “Kid?! Get inside before you catch something... or get hit by a car!” He runs past her, huffing and panting, and she’s about to scold him for whatever ploy he’s pulling, but his eyes are terrified and she immediately grabs his shoulders tightly. “Hey, what’s the matter?” 

“What did you do to my mom?” Henry shrugs her off, huffs with a glare, and it’s a look she’s seen directed at Regina many times. Now she understands a fraction of what Regina feels.

“What did  _ I  _ do—“ _ _

“She looked, I don't know, weird! She was scared! She was with you, wasn’t she?” He’s accusing her of hurting his mother, but Emma’s heart is warm. He loves his mother despite everything, the anger and the frustration. 

“Kid, that’s between me and your mom. She and I just... something happened and I think it scared her—“

“You kissed.” Henry says, resigned, shoulders relaxing.

Emma shrugs and smiles sadly. “Yeah. It was probably a mistake, at least she seems to think so.”

“No, Emma, trust me. She’s just scared. Please don’t...” He swallows roughly, his eyes wet all of a sudden, “don’t give up on us.” 

And  _ oh _ . “Kid...” Emma grabs his shoulders again, meeting no resistance this time, “I would never, okay? You’re a part of my little family now. And what would I do without you, huh? You’re the brains of the operation around here.” 

Henry sniffs. “Yeah, well, you guys set the bar low.” Emma scoffs playfully. “I’m serious! You’re both into each other and haven’t done anything about it for months!” 

“Yeah, well, doing something about it wasn’t such a great idea, was it?” 

Henry sighs and frowns at her. “My mom thinks that when you love someone, you give them a piece of your heart and when they run or...” He clears his throat and Emma can only guess he’s thinking about his dad, “they take that piece with them and it’s lost to her forever. People have taken so many pieces from her and she’s scared to try again, to possibly lose too much. So she gave all of her pieces to me for safekeeping. The problem is... I think she kinda forgets that a heart is pretty heavy. Someone needs to help me hold onto it. But that person needs to stay. You run. You just have to prove that you’re ready to stay. Don’t give up on her, Emma.”

Emma clears her throat and nods. She ignores the urge to cry. “You know... you hold so many pieces, but pulling away and being angry? That hurts just as much as running.”

“I know,” Henry says, his hazel eyes slipping shut. “I’m just confused. She lied to me and I...”

“Kid, did I ever tell you that I was in the foster system?” Emma asks rhetorically, gathering her bravery as Henry shakes his head. “I was. I was left on the side of a highway when I was just a few hours old and I was put with a family that gave me back when the mom got pregnant. From there, it just became harder as I grew up. I didn’t really have anyone that loved me, that I could look up to, nothing.” Emma smiles lightly at him. “But you had your mom because she wanted you so much. She saved you, Kid. Maybe she should’ve told you since you were small, but... can you understand why she’d be scared?”

Henry looks at his shoes and mumbles, “Maybe.”

“Right. It’s okay to be upset, but try to take it easy on her, alright? Like you said, she’s had her heart broken and she’s entrusted you with it, so don’t break every piece she’s given you because you’re frustrated.” When the boy just continues to frown at the ground and scuff his shoes against the hardwood, Emma sighs. “Come on, Kid. Let’s get you home.”

* * *

Marian set her down on her master bed and tells her she’s going to get her a glass of water, and Regina spends the few minutes of solitude she’s been given pressing her face against her pillow so the cotton soaks up her tears and biting down on her lip so she doesn’t sob out loud. 

The bed dips under Marian’s weight and there’s a clink of glass connecting with the wood of her side dresser. When the other woman grips her shoulder and pulls her onto her back, she notices how Marian’s pitying expression hasn’t faded in the time apart. It’s utterly  _ embarrassing _ . 

“Talk to me,” Marian whispers and it’s gentle enough to not feel like a command. In that moment, she realizes she isn’t seeing pity in those brown eyes. She’s seeing concern, because Marian loves her despite everything, and that’s what makes her finally speak up.

“I kissed Emma.” She reveals somberly. Marian doesn’t even pretend to look surprised. She also seems confused, like she can’t fathom why this is catastrophic. Regina sits up with a huff and snaps, “I cannot have feelings for that woman! Or anyone, period! Love is—“

“Weakness?” Marian finishes knowingly and it sends a shiver up her spine. She’s heard her mother say that exact phrase many times, but she never thought it would fall from her own lips so effortlessly. She’s believed it for so long, but to preach it with as much passion as her mother? She feels nauseous. Marian knows it too. “You really want to follow the gospel of Cora Mills?”

“I—Marian, I can’t afford to follow anything else.”

“Not even your heart?” She asks rhetorically, exasperated. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe pushing people away cuts deeper? Regina, Robin was an adulterous bastard and Daniel wasn’t your fault. If it weren’t for Robin cheating on me with you, we wouldn’t have met. You wouldn’t know me, or Roland, and you probably wouldn’t be able to handle City Hall.”

Regina chuckles, tears rolling down her cheeks. “You are the glue,  _ querida _ .” 

“And if it weren’t for Daniel, you wouldn’t have Henry. Daniel wanted a child so badly and he convinced you to adopt. All of your heartbreak has led you to Henry...” Marian smiles gently as she adds, “and Emma. That girl is enamored.” 

“For now,” Regina acknowledges and nods succinctly. “But she’ll lose interest eventually, and I have Henry to think about.”

“Love, I hate to break it to you, but if you push Emma away now, it would still hurt him. He kind of loves her and he’s been trying to get you together for months.” 

“Yes, I noticed.” Regina chuckles, remembering all of his knowing looks, humored snorts, and smug smiles. He’s also attempted to give them alone time and been completely obvious in his attempts. During one of their picnics, he bolted up, mumbling about a friend he saw by the soccer field, then proceeded to hide behind a tree and watch them interact. Emma was nice enough to pretend she couldn’t see him despite laughing about it with Regina. 

“So, why this?” Marian gestures to her tear-streaked cheeks and running makeup and Regina self-consciously wipes at her cheeks with the back of her hand. She’s fairly certain it doesn’t help much with the running mascara, but her hand is wet when she pulls it back so at least the tears are being wiped away. 

“I didn’t plan for this.” 

“We usually don’t,” Marian concedes. “But when something good comes along...” 

Regina sucks in a shaky breath and starts to nod when the front door of the house opens and Henry calls out to both of them. They slip from bed to walk downstairs but Marian halts her with her hand and reaches for the makeup removing wipes on her dresser. She smiles gratefully and wipes down her face, removing as much trace of her breakdown as possible. 

When she reaches the foyer, she nearly chokes on air when she sees Emma Swan standing there next to Henry. Marian is gripping his shoulders and quietly scolding him for something, but she can’t pay them much mind when Emma’s staring at her with anxiety and mild hope. 

And damn it, they’ve waited long enough. She rushes toward the blonde until they’re pressed together again, as if Regina had never pulled away, and her hands slip into Emma’s silky blonde hair to pull her lips against Regina’s. There’s a squeak of surprise from the blonde before she melts into the embrace. There’s a cheer from behind them that makes Regina smile, causing their teeth to bump against each other for a second before they readjust. And Marian... well, she’s silent, which is a rarity and must mean she’s stunned. Perhaps she didn’t expect her friend to take the chance so quickly, but seeing the blonde, knowing what her lips tasted like and not tasting them again felt like an impossibility.

When she pulls back, Emma’s smiling, but her eyes are asking the question. Regina slides her hands from Emma’s hair to cup blushing cheeks.

“Someone once told me that we have to treat ourselves to good stuff every once in a while.”

“She’s sounds smart.”

“She’s mostly an idiot, but she has her moments.” 

Emma rolls her eyes as Henry and Marian laugh behind them, and Regina kisses the tip of her nose in apology. 

The blonde leans in until their lips almost touch and whispers, “Are you sure?” 

“More sure than I’ve been in a long time, Miss Swan. Just... stay.” 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  
  



End file.
